Recover
by MasterFranny
Summary: [TalaKai] [Mature content, Rape, Yaoi, takes place after the first season] Five months after the tournament the Demolition Boys are faced with a desperate situation...
1. Prologue: Offerings

**Note:** this chapter has been reposted. This is the new version.

**MasterFranny:** This fic is dedicated to **Kuroi**, who continued bugging me to write this. At first, after the prologue, I didn't know how to put down what I wanted to write. Now, thanks to me experimenting around, I finally found out the right way. This fic will develop slowly, but be assured, you're going to like it.

……………………………………………

**Rating**: M.

**Summary:** five months after the tournament the D-Boys are faced with a desperate situation… (TalaKai, Yaoi, Kai!centric)

**Warning:** will contain strong themes, male x male characters, rape, minor, non–con, and many others. Please refrain yourself from flaming.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own BeyBlade, if I did the anime would be yaoi and the manga would be cooler and with a much better plot.

"Talking"

'_Thinking'_

"Talking into other languages"

–**Dreams sequences, flashbacks, memories–**

……………………………………………

**Recover**

**Prologue: Offerings**

Moscow was filled with the usual chaos once again, reminder that the Tournament –that had taken place not long ago– was now finished, and people were finally returning to their usual lives, even if the event was still on everyone's mouth (and mind).

After all, no one could really let go what had transpired from the TV, or from the ones that had been present at the tournament, and the news was still travelling around, from hushed mouth to the other, among the many other whispers of the city.

The BladeBreakers were loved, one could say almost worshipped all around the world, the very first team to actually defeat the mighty Russian Team, known to be ruthless and unbeatable; everywhere the Japanese went, everyone would cheer them and crowd around them, asking for autographs, or even pieces of their clothes.

They were treated almost like VIPs, or something similar, and they loved it, completely… well, not all of them.

_He_ didn't like this, at all.

Hiwatari, Kai. The silent and reserved captain of the BladeBreakers; not that anyone called him 'reserved' or 'silent' in the first place. The newspapers and TV news usually referred to him as the 'cold, emotionless leader of the winning team'… usually adding some nasty comments about him cheating on his team to return to the other one, not once, but twice.

An no one actually specified which was Kai's team to begin with. But that could not defer his own fans, who loved him no matter what, either from his past with the Demolition Boys, or from his skills during the whole championship.

He'd been with the BladeBreakers at the start of the tournament, but the Demolition Boys were his former team in the previous tournaments (because he'd been fighting with them years before… that was why some fans called out for him to return to the Russians during some of the fights).

But the truth was, Kai didn't care. Not at all. He walked down the path he chose with his head high and no thoughts back to his choices.

And, Kai hated crowds.

Hated people surrounding him with no way out, asking him to sign their books (or worse, their bodies) and trying to get parts of his clothes as souvenirs. He hated the admirers and he hated in the same way those who despised him… he cared nothing of what others thought.

What he really wanted, was to be left alone. As simple as that, though no one really understood, not even his teammates.

That was why one day he simply disappeared from the hotel they were still residing into, and no one noticed it –neither Tyson nor Max, too busy enjoying the attention to care, not even Rei, who was having tough time healing from his battle against Bryan to care about much else.

Not to mention he was busy trying to avoid the pink ribbon called Mariah.

And Kenny? He was busy with his little group of computer fanatics, watching the BeyBlade matches over and over to find something to speak about.

In short, no one realized he was gone, no one searched for him –not that they would know where to start searching in the first place. He was glad of this, because it meant he would be free for a while in his newfound secret place.

Said hideout was a small garden in the far east of the city, next to an old house that looked like no one had entered it in the last few years; he was sure he should not be allowed to come here, as it was a private garden, but he'd never stopped before, not even in front of closed gates. He would not start now.

He liked the place, it was quiet and peaceful, with no one trying to jump him, harassing the living shit out of him, a place where he could shut himself out of the rest of the world and simply breathe, without being bothered by his life.

He needed this, just as much as he needed some time to forget about everything else.

Laying on the grass, with his eyes lost in the distance, the scent of flowers coming to his senses with every whiff of wind, Kai felt at peace; he liked how the breeze would shuffle the leaves of the trees, and how he could exist without having to have a purpose, simply… resting.

Lost in a silent garden that no one knew about.

The silence was almost overwhelming there, no other sound except a few birds chirping on the trees, no people's chatting, nothing but grass and flowers and nature all around.

Tired of what had happened in the last few days, Kai managed to get some time to think about everything, pondering what he had to do, what he had done, and what he hadn't; no time to think when you are the captain of a BeyBlade winning team, no time at all.

Under his hands the grass felt smooth and soothing, lightly wet by the morning dew and the cool breeze was blowing through the garden with a slow enchanting motion, flowers bending to its soft touch.

His tense shoulders dropped as the slate haired teen allowed his muscles to relax for the first time in days, breathing evenly and closing for a moment his crimson eyes, as if asking for the darkness to calm his unsettled thoughts.

Everything had happened just the way it had to, in the end.

The tournament now felt so far away from him, as if it hadn't really happened, but the real problem as to now was something else entirely.

Truth to be told, he cared nothing if Boris was now behind the bars of a prison, and he cared nothing if the Abbey was closed now; the children were back with their families, and those who weren't would be either adopted or allowed to live for themselves. Nothing of this left a trail of concern in the teen's heart or mind.

His heart had gotten colder, if it was even possible, and it would need a lot for it to melt a bit.

He still cared nothing.

If something could bother him, it was the last of his family.

Voltaire Soichiiro Hiwatari, that was currently in jail as well.

His face contorted in rage appeared in Kai's mind without his consent, thoughts and memories rushing at him breaking the frail peace of mind he'd obtained like a stone shattering a glass; Voltaire's face was so real in his mind that it felt like he was standing in front of him, grey eyes staring down at him with disgust, pity and disapproval.

Kai remembered the sensation of being unworthy his grandfather's care, the familiar knowledge that he would never be able to really satisfy him, knowing nothing would ever be enough.

Nothing had ever been enough for Voltaire, after all –he wanted something that was above perfection.

And still, what was the purpose of this perfection? The world domination? No, this was not his goal at all… Voltaire was not insane and never had been. Maybe Boris was, but not his grandfather.

Voltaire wanted the Sacred Beasts' power, the strong, invincible force that all of them held inside; studying for years with Boris in order to gain it, to get what truly mattered to him.

Power.

Voltaire only respected and wanted power.

And he could find it not in what the BitBeasts showed in their BeyBlade battles, since this was only a fragment of their real strength. No, he wanted their essence, their soul and being, their life. It could bring him more power that was humanly possible.

Why? Because Voltaire knew about human weaknesses.

Voltaire was human. Old and weak, he knew what he wanted to prevent. Perfection, strength, everything he wanted to obtain that could take him out of his being.

So he wanted the strength of the creatures called Sacred Beasts.

But being his heart not pure, no Creature would accept him as its wielder, as he was evil, greedy, and cared nothing for anyone, not even his own family. He sacrificed twenty years to find one of those so called Beasts, and after realizing it was too pure for him to control, he'd sacrificed his son and daughter–in–law to taint that beast's purity with their blood.

That creature had been Kuro Suzaku. Half of the couple that controlled fire, the part that had a strict control over the dark side of it, one of the most unruly beasts, the one that was easier to taint… because its counterpart was too pure, being in control of the light in the fire.

But even after that sacrifice he could not obtain what he wanted most; he'd ruined the Phoenix, and the only thing left to do was use a pure hearted to control the still untainted part of the Fire Beast, Suzaku.

And that person was Kai.

He'd been innocent, and somewhat pure before, but when he'd fought in the Japanese Tournament, he was nothing more than an empty shell.

Now…

What was he?

Maybe nothing…

Being stripped of his name, the only family he'd left (though he'd never wanted to call Voltaire so) had disowned him before being taken away to prison. Saying loudly and clearly Kai was no more part of the Hiwatari family… that he was not worthier than scum.

He had nothing left.

Still under legal age, Kai found himself void of any hope. His pride prevented him from asking the help of Mr. Dickinson or Tyson's father, even if that would have been the best option… he wanted to prove himself he was still able to do everything by himself.

But all of this was forgotten, if only for a moment, as Kai rested on the grass, calming his inner turmoil. He'd joined the BladeBreakers following his selfish desire to free himself from Voltaire, and now that he was…

He had nothing left.

Staring up at the darkened sky, Kai forced his muscles and stood up, stretching a bit, feeling vaguely refreshed. There would never be another moment like this one for a long time, and he was aware of that.

He would start a new life, one that would need all his concentration –abandon the BeyBlade forever, search for a job, and survive.

That was all that mattered to him now.

BeyBlade… once he'd thought it to be his life, the most important thing he had, but now he knew better; it was just a game, a childish game, the only reason he'd been still playing it was his grandfather's greed.

He could not find it entertaining anymore.

Not anymore.

Or at least, this was what he was telling himself; the truth was, blading had been his only purpose for so much, that he'd never had any other interest. Even if he despised Voltaire for how he was now, this was what he was –a fighter. A warrior. A weapon trained to be the best. Other than that, he was nothing.

This incapability… this weakness… he could not accept it. But blading was his passion. Something that was left untouched from the dark desires of an insane relative and an equally insane criminal.

Clinging to BeyBlade would be like clinging to life itself, the only reason he was still alive. Without that, he would again be nothing.

He could not –would not– accept it.

He had to forget his training, his past, everything they had taught him to be, and create a new path ahead of himself, without caring of where this would lead him.

Anywhere, if only to be away from the dark depths of his pain.

And he would do that… alone.

……………………………………………

Four shapes waited in silence outside of the hotel in which the BladeBreakers resided. The attendant at the door had looked suspiciously at them for a while before recognizing who they were, and then had been too afraid to go and tell them to move out of the way –they were scaring the clients away, but they were scaring him the most.

A glare from one of them sent shudders through his frame, the coldness in their eyes enough to cause his legs to feel jelly. He would not risk his safety against these four, not even for his job.

Silent, almost as if they were shadows and not living beings, they waited, and waited, not even speaking to one another for hours, just… waiting –and even so, words did not matter to them.

When simple nods and gestures could work even better to communicate with each other, why would they need to speak out aloud?

The tallest form was leaning against the cold wall, head bowed a bit as if in deep thought, eyes closed (one could say he was asleep but of course he wasn't) concentrated on the mere sounds around him –the noises of the city as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, when the streets turned empty, when people finally slowed down and surrendered to sleep.

Short dirty blond hair was kept tightly under a green headband, forehead furrowed with the slightest frown, arms crossed over his chest.

Once in a while his eyes would open ever so slightly, revealing he was indeed aware to what happened around him, to cast a glance at the others at his side, then would close again upon noticing nothing had changed. He was patient, and would wait.

Next to him stood another shape, slightly shorter but not overly so, leaning against the wall in a similar fashion, but sitting cross-legged on the ground, head lightly turned to his right so to have a better look at the main street.

Strands of lilac hair graced his features, clear eyes calmly fixed in front of him, his face as emotionless as a mask. He clearly enjoyed the fear they caused to people walking around them, and relied on it amusedly, watching with slight amazement how passer-bys would suddenly decide to take a turn so to avoid them as soon as they noticed them.

He had been fairly amused by the door-keeper of the hotel as well –a man supposed to be strong enough to not be scared by thieves was shuddering under their gaze… not even glare, as they were simply observing.

He looked predatorily around, as he was waiting as well, a little less calmly than his taller companion but enough not to let his emotions out of check.

The third was a sudden flash of bright red against the grey wall, standing still but not leaning or sitting, simply standing there, as if he was trying to pass for a statue.

Two strands of flaming red graced his face as he brushed them away from his icy blue eyes, but they returned down in the end nonetheless. It was a losing battle against gravity, and he knew it.

His face was relaxed, maybe he looked the less scary of the four forms waiting there, but because of that he was even scarier –the calm expression he wore surely was hiding something, as everyone would think.

The blue intense orbs were glancing around in mild boredom, showing his total disinterest for his surroundings, his pale complexion contrasting with a dark bruise on his left cheek and with his attire –the opposite of what one would think he liked to wear– the purest white striped with orange lines.

He was calm, just as much calm as the blond guy was, but his eyes burnt with urgency, even if his stance said nothing of his inner turmoil.

Last of the four was the shortest shape, way shorter than the other three, so much one would think he was a little kid but he wasn't –even if he _was_ the younger of the group. His dark purplish hair was unruly and messily pushed under some sort of hat and goggles, but what was more surprisingly was his nose –it was _so_ damn big.

No one would jeer him however, the glare he sent around was enough to discourage any brave guy trying. Plus his reddish eyes were wide in discomfort of being motionless for so long, and he was willing to have any kind of entertainment to keep him from going insane.

He _was_ calm and all that crap, but he didn't like being still too much. He was active, and hated to be deprived of moving around. As far as he was concerned, he was the most hyper of the group too.

But just as the other three, he would wait here –even if patience wasn't his best virtue, he had still being trained to control himself and his urges. He wasn't going to show weakness by letting his selfish instincts control him.

In the end their patience proved successful, as a well known shape appeared from around a corner, scarf fluttering behind his frame, eyes fixed on the street in front of him. He seemed controlled and deep in thought, but he knew they were waiting for him, and he knew who they were.

He stopped in front of the hotel's entrance, eyeing the scared and unease gate–keeper with mild amusement before sighing ever so lightly, turning to the four shapes with a faint trace of resignation on his features.

He said nothing to them, nor they spoke to him, but a glance was shared, Kai motioning the door to the group, and as if following some silent agreement, the four shapes moved from their spot and followed the slate haired teen inside the hotel, up the stairs to his own room, not even once speaking.

And silence fell on the insiders as well, the moment they saw Kai enter the room with the Demolition Boys on his heels, far too shocked to actually protest at their appearance, too astonished to speak.

Passing through the sitting room, heading for his bedroom without sparing as much as a glance to the rest of the teens in the room, Kai was still able to make out who was there congratulating with Tyson and the BladeBreakers for their victory.

The White Tigers were there (he would have laughed at the expressions of Lee and Mariah when they noticed Bryan, but he restrained himself), and also the AllStarz, Michael's eyes popping out from their sockets at the sight.

There were two of the Majestics as well, Robert and Johnny, but their reactions were a bit more controlled than those of the others.

No adult was in the room, and Kenny was gone as well –probably closed in his own room typing away on his unnerving laptop.

He saw no more, because as soon as he reached his bedroom, he let the four Russians in and closed the door behind his back, locking it so no one would be able to interrupt them.

As soon as the door was closed, something in the Demolition Boys' stance changed, as if they had relaxed ever so slightly –but nothing really visible at the first glance. Not something that any untrained normal eye would have noticed anyway.

Spencer's shoulders dropped by millimetres, Bryan's muscles relaxed lightly, Tala stopped trying to brush away the strands of hair from his face and Ian sighed heavily, contented in being allowed to move.

Kai had relaxed as well, his eyes warming up a bit, as he motioned them to sit; they did so whilst the slate haired blader walked towards his private fridge and took out a bottle of cool fresh vodka, handing it to Spencer, who pulled out the cap and took a sip before passing it to Bryan.

The lilac haired teen mimicked his blond companion and after a sip he handed the bottle to Ian who then gave it to Tala, who took one long sip and returned the bottle to Kai, who on his part sipped twice before setting it at his feet, finally sitting down as well.

"What now?" Spencer was the first to actually speak aloud, doing it in his native language. They were aware the rest of the teams in the other room would probably eavesdrop their conversation, and besides, why speak in another language when your own is so much better?

"What do you mean?" Kai's tone was casual, but he knew very well what Spencer meant.

"Kai, we heard what Voltaire told you, and even if your teammates could not understand, _we_ could," Bryan's voice lacked the icy edges he had during the championships, and sounded flat, at least to someone who didn't know him.

"That bastard disowned you, and now you don't know where to go," Tala eyed his younger companion –though only one year younger than him– and shook his head in resignation­. "What now?"

"I will find something," Kai did not deny anymore, and simply let his voice sound confident, as he was supposed to. Tala did not buy that.

"You have nowhere to go, you know it, and still you act as if it's all ok".

"But it **is**," Kai replied in monotone. The other four noticed his tone was laced with strain –he was tired. "I will be free to control my life, free to do whatever I want… and I have no complaints".

Ian looked around, needing some outlet for his uneasiness, and saw Kai's bag on his bed, neatly made; looking somewhere else, eyeing Rei's own bag with distaste, Ian grimaced at the sight of the little tiger plushie attached to it. "You only own a few things, just like the rest of us, and still you tell us you will be ok?"

"Mr. Dickinson gave me a house," Spencer said. "I am of legal age in two months and then I'll be able to take care of these three too, until they reach that age as well… you could just come live with us, it would be like in the past…"

"It won't come back, past is past," Kai stated. He meant it in both ways. The pain would never come back again, but nor the few happy times they shared together. Everything was gone.

They were too different now, stranger to each other after so many years. Whilst Bryan, Ian, Spencer and Tala had been living together for the last six years –he had left the Abbey at the age of ten– Kai had not been there with them.

They were strangers now.

Many things changed and would never be the same again, and he needed to let the past go, bad and sweet memories. Or he would never find the strength to move on.

"We want you to become a friend again," Ian pleaded, looking up at him. "You'd never been anything different for us, and… we know it's different now, but a friend is a friend, you could never be anything different to us, even if you betray us a thousand times".

Kai's heart felt a small tug at his words, almost painful, as a smile threatened to appear on his emotionless face, but he willed it away.

For how much he wanted to stay with them, he could not. Living with them would mean relieve every day his past, his pain, and whilst for them sticking together meant being strong and help each other, to him meant endless torment and endless pain, sinking in his past forever.

Thus he could not –_would not–_ accept.

"I am not going to stay," Kai muttered, sipping again from the bottle. Bryan reached out to him with an open hand and the slate haired teen handed him the vodka. The lilac haired teen drank it down in one go.

"Please reconsider," Spencer said, his low tone vibrating in the air. "You have nowhere to go, and we would be happy to have you back… where you belong".

Kai stared at the four before him, something akin to longing flashing in his crimson orbs, but it disappeared as soon as it had appeared. He heard the affectionate undertone in their speech, almost imperceptible, but he forced himself to ignore it.

He couldn't go back.

Tala stared at the crimson orbs with his azure ones as he spoke again, "I hope you will over think your decision during the night… if you really want to start anew, just like us, then come back to us, we will be strong together".

Tala stepped towards Kai, then he handed him a paper. Kai looked at it perplexed, and saw it was an address. He knew it was the address of the Demolition Boys' new house, and for a while he just stared at it.

"We will wait for you, no matter how much time you will need to decide," Tala nodded briefly then unlocking the door the four teens stepped outside, right in the faces of all the bladers in the other room who were glued to the closed door.

Tyson, first in line, stumbled back in fear, but the four teens merely glanced at them with distrust and superiority –and still their glance was terrible– before walking towards the front door, but stopped when they heard a voice speaking in Russian to Kai.

"I am positive I heard your grandfather disowned you, am I right?" they did not turn, but they could see who was the one speaking by side glancing at the mirror that was standing on the wall at their right.

It was the European captain, the one who had an aura of determination and strength, the only actual member of the other teams the Demolition Boys knew Kai truly respected.

"So you speak Russian," Kai replied under the stupefied stare of the other teens. His tone held no shock whatsoever.

"How inconsiderate of you to not realize someone like me would have had to learn many languages in order to maintain control over my business," Robert said mildly, looking down at him with his right hand on his chest. "I could not stop these bunch of children from eavesdropping on your conversation, though they understood nothing of it, unfortunately I did, even if I had no such desire to mind your own things".

Kai continued to stare at him unconcerned, whilst on the door the Demolition Boys remained silent, waiting to hear what the older teen was going to say –it was obvious Kai respected him, otherwise he would have already insulted whoever spoke like that to him.

"Mind to tell me what are you going to do?" there was an unspoken threat in Kai's low voice, "are you going to tell Mr. Dickinson about my affair with Voltaire? Are you going to tell him I have no legal tutor anymore?"

Robert wasn't the last bit impressed nor threatened as he answered mildly, "of course not, even if it would be the right thing to do," he shook his head, "I respect you for your decision to forget your past, not many others would be as strong as you in these kind of matters, but I have to agree with your fellows -with your _friends_," he stressed that word and Kai flinched inwardly. "You need somewhere to stay, and they offered you not just a home, but their renewed friendship, their help, and since they know too well what you went through, it would be my advice to actually accept their offering".

Kai clenched his teeth tensing up, a light sweat starting to form on his eyebrow, but remained silent. He was tired of people telling him what to do, sick tired, when the only thing he wanted to do was leave and never look back.

Why were they trying to help? He didn't want them to, he wanted to be able to stand on his own.

"However if you feel uncomfortable around them because of that, because they _know_, then maybe I will have to add my own proposal as well," Robert sighed but his eyes were fierce as he concluded his speech. "I will offer you to come with me in German until you are ready to accept you cannot change your past, because it made you what you are now. You would be living with me, and you would have all the freedom you need, all the time to think, to reflect upon what you are going to do".

Kai betrayed some sort of shock as he heard Robert speaking, eyes flashing at the sudden speech, and couldn't but stare in surprise at him; the Demolition Boys were stunned as well, as they stared at the teen through the mirror.

"You know I respect you, Kai, and I do respect you more because in some ways you are similar to me, and I know you would be… content in staying with me until you realize what you are losing by letting those teens go without a word".

With that, Robert turned to the Demolition Boys ever so slightly, his lips turning upwards to show an imperceptible smile that made the four teens shift uncomfortably. He wasn't mocking them, he wasn't speaking to them, and surely enough he was not treating them as enemies.

He was simply… smiling. And they knew he meant no trouble. He understood, if only partially, what had transpired from the tournament, and held no grudges.

"I as well will be waiting for your decision, and I am sure you will consider both proposals carefully," Robert nodded curtly, fiery eyes now back on the slate haired teen, "and please do not dare to think I am pitying you, I am better than that".

Turning away from the younger teen Robert walked to the door, passing the frozen Demolition Boys –oh, yes, there was still someone who could surprise them after all– and left.

Tala and the others snapped out of their trance and left the room as well, leaving behind a distressed slate haired teen and many confused bladers behind.

……………………………………………

**MasterFranny:** this is just the prologue, but be assured, the real fic will start out in the next chapter. Please drop me a review, it will help me write faster:D

**_Preview of next chapter: Realizations_**

_They walked slowly down the corridors, slightly uneasy in the white surrounding them, the smell of antiseptic and blood -though it was faint- disgusting them. They hated hospitals just as much as they hated police stations, feeling tense around dying people or just injured ones. It was too similar to the Abbey, and they had tried to forget the experience in order to heal._

_Tala shuddered inwardly, he knew there was nothing good waiting for them at the end of the corridor, and tried to brace himself, not knowing what was going to happen._


	2. Ch 01: Realizations

**Note:** now the normal speaking is Russian. The other languages are underlined.

**Note2:** I have nothing against Russian Police, or police from other states. It's just needed for the fic, so please refrain from complaining or flaming about it. Thanks.

**MasterFranny:** this is the first chapter. I hope you will like, since it took me so long to figure out how to continue… :)

One more thing. I don't know Spencer's real surname so I made it up. Don't blame it on me!

……………………………………………

**Rating**: M.

**Summary:** five months after the tournament the D-Boys are faced with a desperate situation… (TalaKai, Yaoi, Kai!centric)

**Warning:** will contain strong themes, male x male characters, rape, minor, non–con, and many others. Please refrain yourself from flaming.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own BeyBlade, if I did the anime would be yaoi and the manga would be cooler and with a much better plot.

"Talking"

'_Thinking'_

"Talking into other languages"

–**Dreams sequences, flashbacks, memories–**

……………………………………………

**Recover**

**Chapter 01: Realizations**

_The world was unfocused for him, nothing but a blur of everything and it hurt._

_His breathing was ragged, his entire body feeling weak, so weak and tired and **heavy**, especially heavy, so much he could not even lift his head anymore… why would he want to? The sight, he could not stand._

_Defeated, since what had happened earlier, where nothing more had a meaning, as he was too tired to fight for his rights, too tired even to care…_

"_**1.500.000!**"_

"_**1.600.000!**"_

"_**2.000.000!**"_

_Numbers rolling off in the air, echoing around him, in his head, vibrating in his entire being, sending shudders and twinges through his frame; his eyes were partially closed, crimson orbs barely holding onto consciousness as the world around him disappeared into shadows and shapes._

_Words, and voices, and blurry colours… and pain._

_He could do nothing._

_Everything was spinning out of control, the voices mixing together in one loud scream, the noises blending together and hurting his ears, making him want to cry out, cry with all the breath that was left, but he couldn't and the voices continued yelling_

_Harder_

_Stronger_

_Voices rising in volume_

_Hands rising_

_More numbers, more confusion_

_Until he could no longer understand, no longer care… because everything had shattered away._

_He didn't want to focus on them, knowing what they meant and that it was him. He was the one in the spotlights, flashing above a world of darkness where the voices were._

_Pain…_

_More voices, then cheering hat deafened him almost completely… not able to tune everything away, as he was the prize._

_Not someone anymore, but a thing._

_And nothing belonged to him anymore… not even his own self._

_Giving up hope_

_Giving up his soul_

_There was nothing to do._

_Crimson unfocused eyes opened to the nothingness…_

"_Sold!"_

… _and his mind blanked out._

…………

Riiiiinnnng!

A high piercing sound shattered the silence in the room, breaking the concentration of the red haired teen who was comfortably sprawled on the couch with a book in his hands; on the table next to him there was a glass filled with vodka, from which he took a sip every now and then.

He had no fear of getting drunk, since his tolerability level was really high.

Growling deeply in his throat in annoyance, he pushed away the bangs from his eyes and glared up at the ringing phone with hatred, since he had been so into his book he didn't want to drop it to answer.

The noisy object had the decency to ignore his glare and keep on ringing, much to the teen's utter displeasure.

Gathering some strength, he cleared his throat, "Spencer! Ian! The phone!" azure icy orbs scanned the room he was in, searching for the familiar figures of his two friends; he found them next to the other couch –well, he found Spencer at least. Ian was probably hidden by said couch, but Tala was actually certain the shrimp was there as well.

Riiiinnnnnng!

"Sorry Tala, I'm busy" was the curt reply of the blond teen, followed by a little wave with his hand, as he didn't even bother turning around.

Saying there was silence in the room had in truth being an understatement, since Tala was aware of the background coming from the GameCube of the two. He was too used to it to take notice, and it didn't bother him at all.

Spencer and Ian loved to challenge one another with some game.

"Same here!" Ian piped in, letting Tala know he was there as well, just as he had suspected, behind the couch. "Ha! I won!"

Riiiinnnnnng!

"Bryan, would you–" Tala begged, trying with his last resource, though he couldn't see the lilac haired blader anywhere.

"No way! I'm going to have a shower! If it's for me, I'm not home!" the Falcon's voice came from somewhere in the corridor, but his remark was partially a joke. No one ever called the Demolition Boys, apart some rare calls from those unfortunate people that wanted to make some commercial calls.

Of course, after the first tries, they had stopped. Maybe the first four passed on the news to the others…

Anyway, apart those, no one had their phone number, and Mr. Dickinson only called once par week.

Tala glanced out of the door straining his neck, and caught a glimpse of Bryan's half naked body pass there with a towel in the direction of the bathroom. He half shuddered, even if he was used by now to scenes like that one.

Riiiinnnnnng!

The damn thing was still ringing, and Tala swore with all his might that if it happened to be Tyson, he would cut his guts away once for all. Yes, because the loud Japanese teen had somehow managed to get his hands on their number (how, no one knew), and sometimes he liked to call them.

Or, as Tala put it, torture them.

Effectively, that made the number of people who knew their number increase to… two, Tala mused.

Since no one was willing to answer to the damn phone, Tala sighed and forced himself up –not before placing a bookmark so not to lose his page. Mourning the loss of his comfortable spot on the couch, the red head made his way towards the phone and picked it up, preparing himself to shout to the poor person on the other end.

"That's not fair! You cheated!" Ian whined; he was clutching the control pad like an anchor against his chest, his expression priceless in his fake hurt, pouting.

Spencer rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, "I did _not_," then he smirked smugly, "but if you really think that, I may feel so hurt I won't play with you again…" he looked pointedly at his friend, placing his own control pad on the floor.

Ian's eyes widened almost comically, "no! Please!" he grabbed Spencer's shirt and stared up pleadingly at the older teen, "I'll be nice! One more game!"

Spencer sighed in fake resignation and picked the control pad up again; before they could start another game however, something in Tala's stance attracted their attention.

Whilst he'd picked up the receiver with the sole intention to bite off the head of the one on the other end, now the redhead stood tense and stiff as he listened to whoever was speaking to him, azure orbs flickering with confusion.

"Yes, we are the Demolition Boys," Tala's voice was serious as he spoke. A small frown was gracing his features. "No… this apartment is signed under the name of Spencer Vulkstov… yes, Mr. Stanley Dickinson… President of the BeyBlade Battle Association…"

Ian frowned at him "Tala? What–"

Tala hushed him with his hand without looking up. "If it's something really important, then… yes, I understand. Maximum reserve, I am aware of that. We will be there soon, sir".

After a moment Tala placed down the receiver and turned towards Spencer and Ian, his frown still clear, eyes filled with clear confusion, the azure darker than usual.

"Tala? Is something the matter? Who was on the phone?" Spencer turned towards his captain, game forgotten as he waited for an answer. Ian peered from behind the couch, equally perplexed.

"It was… it was an officer… said his name was Vassilj," Tala sighed as he massaged the brink of his nose –he didn't like being confused. "He asked if we could go to the police station, because he has something he wants to talk with us about… something that concerns us as a team," he shrugged in helplessness, biting his lower lip.

"What is it then?" Ian wondered.

Tala could only shake his head.

Bryan peered inside the room; despite his former hurry to take a shower, he'd stopped behind the wall to listen, and now he stood there, waiting, his towel still around his neck. The expression in Tala's eyes was a mix of perplexity, curiosity and even anxiety; Balkov Abbey was known for its dirty affairs, and the Demolition Boys had been involved in some of them.

Even if the traces were kept well hidden or effectively erased, there was still a chance they could be called to answer some questions about that…

But Tala wasn't sure about it. The tone the man's voice had… it was something he could not place. It wasn't angered, or tense. It was almost… sad, in a way.

Tala shuddered, a sudden feeling of dread hitting the back of his mind.

"Let's go, then" he stated.

The others nodded.

……………………………………………

A hour later, the four teens found themselves staring up at the police station, none of them willing to even enter it; the building was just like every other around them, tall and of a greyish colour, with a big sign in Russian and a few writings on the walls, some not nice at all.

The Demolition Boys stood there for a while, grimacing as they stared at the people entering and leaving from the station.

The Abbey had always controlled a racket of black market, half the time corrupting some police officers and making sure no one would come in and arrest them all, and of course the Demolition Boys had been many times into that as well, doing business for Boris and Voltaire, using the façade of a BeyBlade team to finish the illegal business without anyone knowing.

So, the police was a something none of them was that thrilled to meet, not even now that they were out of Boris's control.

No matter if they were 'clean' for the authorities…

Still, they hated that place, partially because of the corruption –after all, who would believe in justice, when they met everyday some officers who gladly accepted Voltaire's money?

They surely didn't. Not anymore.

After some minutes, Tala was the one to shook the others from their broodings and push them inside the station, looking around in uncertainty (even though on the outside they were just as cold as the team seemed to everyone else).

The place was filled with officers and policemen, all busy speaking with people, or moving around like busy ants in an anthill –some roughly pushing handcuffed men in front of them, some talking to each other, some writing down stuff at their desks, all of them looking determinate and serious.

All in all, the place was almost intimidating, even though normally a police station should have been a place where people could feel at ease, but the four teens were not impressed –they had grown up at the Abbey, nothing like this would ever trouble them.

Moving down the entrance in the main corridor, with Tala first, the team walked stiffly towards the information desk, that was just before a staircase leading to the first floor; passing near many officers, the four had the distinct impression they were being stared at, but they simply ignored it.

After all, many of the police officers inside the place were under the control of Voltaire, or had been… it was obvious they were now concerned about themselves… but none of this mattered to Tala and the others. They were there for another thing entirely.

Reaching the information desk, they found a young woman on her thirties, dressed with the classical uniform of the Russian police, that was babbling something over the phone with a grimace; she looked pretty angered at whoever was on the other end, but still absolutely professional.

The moment her glance turned towards them, her brown eyes narrowed a bit, and her lips curved into a gelid smile –though her face morphed into a much well–practiced but at the same time fake sweetness.

With some words to the phone she placed the receiver down and turned her attention towards them.

"Can I do something for you, boys?"

Spencer was the oldest, but he allowed Tala to go on, knowing he would get what he wanted more easily than him; the red head leaned on the counter with practiced ease, his chin on his hand, staring with emotionless eyes at the woman, who despite her apparent coldness, shuddered under the glare.

"We were requested here from Mr. Vassilj," Tala smiled just as coldly as the woman had before, his voice as chilling as ice.

The inexpressive brown eyes of the woman turned into warmer ones, as her smile turned a bit truer. "Oh, it must be you then," she commented levelly, before pointing towards the stairs. "Second floor, the last room down the corridor… you can't be wrong".

Noticing the change of acting but not caring one bit, Tala nodded passively and lead the way upstairs, the four not speaking as they reached the second floor.

The second floor was much different than the other one, with various corridors leading to many closed doors, all looking plain and uninteresting; the walls were a bit ruined on the corners, maybe in need of a bit of paint.

As they moved forwards, they noticed some of the doors were opened a bit, but what they glimpsed inside was far from nice, so much they never looked twice at either of them.

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, Tala signalled the rest of the team to prepare themselves as he moved forwards, knocking on the door; a deep voice answered so he slowly pushed it open.

What was inside surprised the teens just a bit.

The office was quite bare, with no furniture on the walls, that were ruined and a bit old; there was a table right in front of the door facing it, with some chairs, and a file against the nearest wall.

The window at their right was facing a parking lot they had to pass to reach the police station, and next to it, another grey building; the sky was tinged with dark clouds, signalling the weather was changing for the worst.

Ian grimaced, as he'd forgotten to take an umbrella with him.

On the table there were piles of papers and some pens, files opened and closed, and some other random things.

Sitting on the other end, facing them with serious face, there was a man around thirty–one, thirty–four years old, who looked relaxed and at ease, despite the usual tension that hung around the police station and that the teens felt on their way up there.

The man was at least a head taller than Spencer, and that meant he was _tall_; he had unruly brownish hair, their colour going towards a dark blond, falling in front of his eyes, but he didn't bother brushing it away.

His eyes were of a deep brown, almost of a chocolate shade, and he was wearing a simple clear blue shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans –not at all what one would call a police member. He didn't look like an officer.

Of all the things they were expecting, this wasn't even on the list.

More so, he was actually smiling, something that immediately excluded that man from all the other policemen the teens had ever seen before –he was out of place, _completely_ out of place.

The moment the chocolate eyes moved onto them, Vassilj –it had to be him, after all– stood up and smiled, motioning for them to sit on the chairs in front of him, his reassuring smile not wavering at the sight of their emotionless faces.

Tala, Bryan, Spencer and Ian sat carefully down, a bit impressed this man was actually resisting to their glares.

He never moved his eyes from them, and as uncomfortable as it was, never did theirs.

For a few moments, no one spoke, the silence covering them like a blanket, then the brown haired man cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from one to the other as if searching for something; his glance stopped for a second over Spencer, assessing him as the older one, but then he turned towards Tala, as if sensing he was the leader of the group, and only then did he speak.

"I know you must be wondering how I got my hands on your phone number, and why I called you," he sighed deeply, closing briefly his eyes before opening them again. "First of all, I will present myself –my name is Vassilj, and I work for the Russian section of the Interpol".

Tala's blue eyes narrowed that instant, glaring at the man, "Russia never accepted to be part of the Interpol," he hissed.

The man nodded with a small smile; he knew he had some explaining to do before he could proceed further, and he had to gain at least the acceptation of those teens if not their trust.

"I am aware of that. What I am about to reveal you is reserved information, but in such circumstances as these, I am forced to tell you this".

His eyes sharpened and darkened a bit.

"I know you will be silent about what I say, and that everything will stay between these four walls".

His voice was grave, and his seriousness and change of attitude caught the interest of the four Demolition Boys. Tala nodded curtly, and so did the others.

The man was asking them something, but it was not trust… it was… complicity, but not that entirely. What he was asking them was secrecy, and that was something they could do.

Vassilj leaned back on his chair again, as if contemplating this acceptation, before he nodded as well.

"Let me say I know about your past at the Abbey, and I know of the state of corruption that ties that place so tightly with the Russian police," he took notice of their stiffening at the mention of the abbey, but said nothing more about it. Instead, he continued speaking as if nothing was wrong, his tone peaceful and calm.

Tala's eyes narrowed again –there were few that really knew about the corruption of the police by Voltaire and Boris' hands, and the illegal traffics, now of public domain, had never showed any of these connections at all.

"I didn't call you there because of this, however" Vassilj placed his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, his penetrating eyes fixed on them.

"The Russian police has been corrupted long since Voltaire and Boris, and it was something that, despite never being spoken loudly about, was known by the Russian authorities. Though, there was not enough proof of such decay, so some years ago, to prevent more problems, against it, a department was created, a small department that agreed with the Interpol, albeit secretly. The news was never divulged… and I work for that department".

To say the Demolition Boys were shocked was an understatement; this was something they were not expecting, and such statement sounded… false.

A secret department of the Russian police that was working with the Interpol? No, this was not possible. America and Russia were enemies, fierce enemies, that hated each other; they would never trust the other enough to sign an alliance with one another…

Russia had rejected the Interpol offer to join forces because of that, so how was it possible that now the authorities had done such a deal?

But still…

The Demolition Boys had been good in recognizing lies and truths… a person's face, his _eyes_, was enough for them to know. And this guy… his eyes were speaking the truth.

Was it possible then?

On his part, Vassilj could see the tension and the carefulness of the teens in front of him; he could almost hear their thoughts about how Russia and America could never work together… and in a way it was like this.

A few Russian policemen were willing to work next to European and American ones, but the few that could, did it, if only to fight against the dishonesty of the officers. It was a way like another to stop them from the corruption.

Sighing slightly, he leaned on his chair again and bit his lip –he had yet to start and explain why he'd called them here, and he was not one to stay still for too long… though, this was a delicate case and he had to give them a serious explanation before taking them to…

"But now, I am going to ask for some attention, since what I am going to tell is not a joke" he proceeded, eyes glinting with seriousness. "For the last few years, I've been working on a specific case, and only a few days ago my group and I were finally able to solve at least a part of it… when taking care of some smaller details, we found something that relates you at the case, and I wanted to confirm my suspicions before continuing".

He stood up, staring out of the window and giving his back to the teens, who used that moment to share a look; they were confused about what could relate them to something like this, since the Abbey was used to erase completely all the proof…

Bryan stared hard at Tala, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. _'Let's wait, I don't think it's something that will end up against us'_ he communicated with his icy eyes.

Bryan nodded.

"What I am talking about is similar, speaking about secrecy, to how the Abbey itself was used to work, so I am sure you will understand the level of hard work we had to invest to be sure to take down that business" Vassilj sighed tiredly. "It took us years to take down only a quarter of it, and this is where you come into the picture…"

Tala nodded, still not understanding, but willingly to cooperate in order to get out of there faster. He knew they had sworn secrecy and he was not going to blast their cover down, but he wanted to end this thing and go back home.

"Basically, you are not forced to follow me, but it would be of a great help if you would" Vassilj turned again, and his eyes were filled with something that to Tala looked like… concern? "Because I have the feeling that you would resolve everything a lot faster that we would be able to".

Tala frowned, he still couldn't understand a damn thing, nor could the others.

"We will follow you" he stated, determined into going to the bottom of the situation. "Can't you explain us at least what you want us to do?"

Vassilj shook his head slightly; he wanted to take things calmly.

"You will find out soon enough" he stated, moving towards the door. "Please, follow me out; it will be a short trip to where we have to go".

The four teens stood up as well, knowing they had agreed with him and now had to see where this would be leading them; though, they were ready for anything that could be thrown towards them, and now were particularly curious as to what would require their presence.

Vassilj exited the room and was soon followed by them, Tala stopping Bryan with a motion of his hand to mutter something to him in a hushed tone.

"Let's keep an eye on him no matter what, I am not entirely sure this is real," the redhead grimaced.

As they walked out of the police station, the four teens could clearly see the glares the various officers threw Vassilj as he passed, and could only think he had probably shown himself as incorruptible to them, so now they stared at him with hatred.

The only one that wasn't glaring as they passed, following him outside, was the woman at the information desk, who instead smiled pleasantly at them.

Finally leaving, feeling more relaxed the moment they stepped out of the building, Tala and the other three were not surprised to see Vassilj waiting for them next to a normal police car, staring at them and motioning them to sit down.

Spencer shared a look with Tala, before sitting in the front seat, next to the driving Vassilj; Tala, Bryan and Ian sat down in the back of the car, feeling vaguely uneasy even though they were apparently not suspected of any illegal affair –at least for now.

No one of them spoke as Vassilj drove down the busied streets of Moscow, not bothering to start a conversation as he knew what was going to happen would probably shock the teens, if they really were who he thought they were.

Meanwhile, the Demolition Boys were left to think about what had transpired from their brief conversation, and about what would wait them, wherever they were going; surely enough this whole affair felt suspiciously like some trick, but they were used to strict situations, so that wouldn't be much different.

Plus, no one would send this man, he was obviously telling the truth…

The Demolition Boys didn't really know what to do in this situation, except paying attention and not lowering their awareness.

As no one had been really looking where they were being lead by the man, it came as a shock when the car finally stopped, and the four teens glanced out of the windowpane.

"But…" Tala's icy eyes narrowed in shock, "this is the hospital!"

Vassilj nodded, motioning for them to follow him as he closed the car. "Yes, you will have to meet someone here at the hospital, and then, if you won't recognize that person, you will be free to go".

Bryan and Tala shared another glance, now mildly worried; the redhead was afraid it would be someone Boris had hurt and that would be able to recognize them as well. After all, not just once had they moved under the man's orders to punish those who were against Boris and Voltaire…

Bryan was thinking just about the same way, and he followed Vassilj with tense shoulders; he knew that even though that man looked weak and not at all a fighter, he would never go against an officer.

They were smart, and if this was truly a trap then they would have backup hidden somewhere around, and would attack them if they tried something out of the normal.

'_Shit'_ Bryan bit down on his lip hard. _'We would be doomed'_.

But now they had to continue, and hope the man wasn't taking them to prison.

Vassilj entered the hospital by the emergency door on the left side of the building, ignoring the warning 'no outsiders are allowed by this entrance' placed just next to the door; his eyes were now dark and serious as he walked down an empty corridor, leading the teen up a round of stairs.

The Demolition Boys walked slowly down the corridors, following the brown haired inspector with tense muscles; they felt unease with all the white surrounding them, almost as if this place was faking a cleanliness that it didn't really have.

The clear smell of antiseptic and blood –though the latter was faint– was disgusting for their senses, as they had long since associated antiseptic and blood with the Experiment Rooms back at the Abbey.

Just as much as they hated police stations, they loathed hospitals.

There was a lingering feeling of death and sickness, and people who were ill would always surround them, showing to their eyes what at the Abbey was not allowed –to be weak.

In a way, though the whiteness of the walls and floors and ceilings was opposed to the oppressing darkness of the corridors at the Abbey, the hospital reminded them of the one place they were trying hard to forget.

Tala shuddered lightly, feeling oddly cold as he pushed his hands in his pockets in the sudden need to warm himself up at least a bit, the raw material of his jeans brushing against his cold fingers almost painfully; icy azure eyes darted around to the faces of the doctors and nurses that were now filling the once empty corridors as they moved towards a much more 'lived' wing of the hospital.

Bryan's face was turning more and more emotionless with every step he took, turning slowly into a stony front to hide his inner turmoil; being one of the Demolition Boys didn't mean his emotions had been erased completely, as he was a human like his friends.

They were used to suppress any source of weakness, and he'd been taught emotions were a weakness as well.

Spencer was the one who seemed the most at ease between them, as his mind was keeping him calm even under such circumstance, reminding him against his instincts that this was nothing he should worry about.

The Abbey was the past, and by so far, he was the one who was succeeding in placing a stone on the ghosts of his past… more than the others, as his cool and collected mind had nothing to do with rushing too much.

Ian instead was the one who was fairing the worst in such situation, as his reddish eyes were darting around without being able to stay still in one place long enough, and his shoulders were trembling with the strain of keeping them tense.

Being the youngest of the four, his memories of their time at the Abbey were the clearest and sharpest, thus making it hard for him to really let them go.

Still, knowing Spencer, Tala and Bryan were right next to him helped the teen to accept everything thrown against him, making him relax, if only just a little.

All of them were thinking the same thing as they walked.

'_Just a little bit more… then we will surely be out of this'._

The four noticed that Vassilj had stopped in front of a window–pane, and was speaking in a hushed way with two men who were dressed with normal police uniforms, a nurse and someone who was dressed like him (he could have been another undercover agent).

Vassilj stared at his three colleagues and at the nurse, continuing his speech as the four approached them. Tala noticed the window pane was covered with a curtain, so as to not let anyone look inside. He wondered who was in that room, and why it should concern them at all.

"How is he fairing? Has there been any change ever since I left?"

The nurse shook her head with a sad expression, her blondish curly hair falling messily around her face.

"No, he's still stable, but there hasn't been any considerable change… and he still isn't aware of his surroundings".

Vassilj bit down on his lip, grimacing in barely suppressed anger.

"Any news about the boss?" he turned towards the other undercover agent, who shook his head helplessly.

"No, I am sorry, I'm doing all I can, but after the raid it's been as hard as hell to find some traces of him".

Vassilj nodded, signalling the others could go. The two police officers nodded to him and turning around they walked stiffly away, whilst the other undercover agent smirked at him and with a wave he walked down the corridor Vassilj came from.

The nurse moved her eyes towards the four teens who were waiting behind him and stared at them in surprise.

"So… it's them?" she asked to the brown haired detective with relief flashing on her features.

Vassilj nodded curtly, "it may be them, yes. Now I'll bring them inside if it's ok with you".

The nurse smiled, "of course… it still isn't visitors' time, but since we're in the middle of a police operation, I can't but let it drop this time… especially since I wish we'll get some info on who _he_ is…"

Vassilj turned towards Tala, staring at the teen in the eyes with a level stare.

"Please, stand here in front of the window, and wait for me to push the curtains away, and keep your voice low, we are in a hospital. I just want to know if you recognize this person at all… and try to ignore his appearance, as well".

The nurse pushed a button next to the wall, and slowly the curtains started to pull open. Tala, Bryan, Ian and Spencer's eyes were glued to the window–pane as they waited patiently for the view to be cleared from the beige curtain.

But as they stared inside the hospital room, the sight that was presented to them shattered their control completely.

Silence enveloped them as Tala's hands found their way against the glass, blue eyes widened in shock as he felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Every thought they could have had before now was erased from their heads.

Tala wanted to yell out, clutch at the window and break that glass to enter the room, if only to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him and this was true and not a horrible nightmare, but his body felt heavy and his voice could not come out of his throat, as if someone was slowly suffocating him.

No.

It was not true…

It couldn't possibly be…

"_Kai…_" he rasped out, legs failing to keep him up, as he slumped down on the floor.

……………………………………………

**MasterFranny:** I know this was more of a filler chapter, but it's a promise, next chapter will have explanations and more action, and if you feel like it, it would be nice to drop me a review… I'd love that, and I could write faster then.

Ja ne!

**_Preview of next chapter: Cruel and Void_**

_Nothing could be enough to explain everything, no words strong enough to show the nightmare that had enveloped him, slowly sucking away his will, his soul, his strength, nothing would ever be enough to tell how his word had come crushing down on him, engulfing his life and turning it to living hell, killing his will to live and breaking his spirit._

_And even though no one of them could really know, there was still fear –fear that the truth would be forever hidden to their eyes._

_That no one would ever understand… or help him._

_Fear that no one would be able to call him back…_


End file.
